Hearts Under Fire
by lostshadowthief
Summary: Post-season two, essentially Clarke's journey to Polis like a lot of other stories, but I threw in a furry companion. Please don't judge based a poor summary!
1. Chapter 1

Clarke left Camp Jaha no more than four hours ago, but before she could make much headway, she was brought back to the one place she did not want to be; a few feet from where she first met Lexa. The air still smelled like hot metal, burnt wood and worn down leather - perhaps Clarke was imagining it, it was a trick of the mind, but as the smells filled her nose, her heart ached even more. It bothered her much more than she cared to admit. When the Commander left her and her people to fend for themselves against the Mountain Men, Clarke was too shocked to process the heartbreak she was experiencing. Not just for her, but for the people on the inside that were expecting an army of thousands to storm the mountain, freeing them from their entrapment. It was when Lexa said that her actions were only something Clarke would have done that she expressed her confusion and hurt in anger. Suffice to say, she did end up doing exactly what the Commander said she would - she did what she had to do to save her people. Clarke murdered another 300 to save her remaining 44. This time though, the blood on her hands was not from those who were born and bred for war. It was from people who did not choose their secluded life, children who knew nothing of the torture and havoc that went on in the upper levels of Mount Weather. The blood that soaked her hands was from innocents, and the thought of that alone made Clarke's empty stomach turn. The lessons with the Commander about leadership ran through her head, but even still, she questioned her decision. Her victory rode on the back of 250 innocents. Had it been the death of the guilty 50, she would not have felt as bad, but the children's faces were engraved in her head, as were her people's. Fox's limp body sliding down the chute, Raven's feral screams, her mother's thrashing within the restraints, and the look of sheer terror from all of those on the video feed. It took her a few hours to gather up the courage, but eventually she sought out Bellamy and told him of her "plan". There was no goodbye party, no merriment, only looks of sorrow and terror. Saying goodbye to her mother was hardest. Even though Abby thought Clarke was still too young, she knew it was time to let Clarke find her own path. The doctor wished it didn't have to be so literal - the thought of losing Clarke again was difficult, but she was coping. With a brave face from all of the parties, Clarke left late one afternoon. Before she walked through the gates, she made eye contact with Octavia whose side was glued to Lincoln's ever since their battle at Mount Weather. Octavia gave Clarke an obligatory nod and the blonde returned it with a weak smile. She wasn't sure how to feel about Octavia anymore. While she trusted the girl with her life, she knew that trust was not reciprocated, especially after hearing an earful from the brunette in the tunnels.

The sky girl recalled all of this as the she stood on the memory-ridden hill. She could see where the tent had been, where Gustus had threatened to end her if she looked at Lexa wrong way, and a faint imprint from where Commander's throne was once stationed. With minimal effort, Clarke pushed the memory out of her heart while the words _love is weakness_ echoed in her head. After staring at the spot , she allowed a single tear to trickle down her face, stinging her dry skin. Quietly, she shut down the part of her heart that felt so much and intensely so. Clarke gathered herself after a moment, and continued her odyssey once again.

Her feet led her back to where it all began - the drop ship that tossed her and the rest of the expendable children on the wrong side of radiation filled forest, and on the wrong damn mountain. In truth, it was an obvious choice. She knew it would provide her shelter, though she had reservations simply because her people would look for her there first. _Were they even my people anymore?_ The blonde allowed herself this moment to ponder certain what-ifs. Such as, what if they had been dropped at the base of Mount Weather as originally planned? Confrontation with the Grounder's would have been much sooner, but she doubted it would have changed much. She still would have lost her people, maybe even more than the 56 that were already gone. Perhaps she would have lost fewer, had they sought sanctuary in the hallowed halls of Mount Weather, but she would have lost either way. "_Tiring yourself with questions asked and answered is a waste of energy._" Even in her absence, Lexa still weighed heavy on her mind and fiercely in her heart. The blonde knew that what she had done was for her people, the primal instinct to survive, and yet, she questioned her actions now. She looked into the eyes of the people from the sky and told them to fight for her friends, for their own people. She told them to fight for her. Lives lost on her side were minimal compared to the Mountain Men and Grounders, and yet she felt the weight of it all in its entirety. Somehow, she felt it all. She had not realized it, but Clarke now stood at the base of Wells' makeshift grave. Perhaps she should have let him lead the 100; he seemed to have the most diplomatic and selfless head on his shoulders. For years, he let Clarke hate him just so she would not sever her relationship with her only living blood relative. _What have I done, Wells?_ Clarke waited, quietly mourning the fallen. A silent part of her hoped that her question would be answered, unsurprisingly, it was not. Dejectedly, the blonde began to move as the night was starting to descend on her lonely world.

She briefly considered returning to Camp Jaha, realizing she brought nothing but a knife, a gun with half a magazine left, her jacket and a strap around her chest that the Commander personally fashioned for Clarke. However, she thought better of it when she saw the skeletal remains of the 300 Grounder's she slaughtered, or what was left of them. It seemed the bones were too clean, meaning animals had since wandered to the mass grave and consumed whatever burnt flesh had remained. In her mind, she pictured blood seeping from the bones and as they crunched under her feet. She heard low groans and high-pitched screams from the fallen. The weight of all that happened was finally bearing down on her. In this time of "peace", she had time to think and reflect. That was perhaps the most dangerous thing she had done since she came to ground. She wasn't sure of much, but Clarke knew of the liters of blood and seemingly endless anguish that stood in the way of her own reconciliation.

The blonde's feet stilled as she looked at the steel box that brought 100 kids plummeting to earth. Thankfully, the door to the drop ship remained open and she made her way inside, silently stepping over the fallen. She was not sure what she expected to find, but discovered old material still lay about, more or less unscathed by the fire. Clarke figured she could fashion tools of some sort from the remaining pieces, but, before she could do that, she needed to rest. The hammock that she used upon an infected Murphy's return was still in tact. Tentative feet carried her to its edges, her body begging for rest - she complied without much of a fight, but her sleep was intermittent. Throughout the night, Clarke tossed and turned unable to forget the last few weeks. She dreamt of her time at the Ark, in her own quiet skybox unable to think of anything other than being free. In her seclusion, she thought of the Earth, a beautiful blue marble filled with everlasting wonders. Her drawings found a way to glorify the orb that she dreamed of being on, breathing in the fresh air, allowing it to fill her lungs. That dream did in fact come true, but perhaps it wasn't meant to. How could she really have been destined to kill hundreds upon hundreds of people? The lives lost in the fire, the lives lost in Tondc, the Mountain Men she killed...

"Tell me something, Clarke. When you plunged the knife into the heart of the boy you loved, did you not wish it was mine?" Clarke woke with Lexa's words bouncing around in her head. The sky girl could practically feel the words seep through her skin, dripping into her veins. She could feel to malice leaving Lexa's lips and see the way the Commander accented each word, her face snarling with each syllable. At the time, the thought crossed her mind that perhaps she did want Lexa to die instead of Finn, but it did not settle her mind. Rather the idea of herself tied to the pole, suffering the death of 18 - that would have been mercy in comparison to the damage she had done. Despite what others thought, Clarke knew Lexa was merciful. She allowed Clarke to pass killing Finn out of mercy, not so much love. All the same, mercy was a luxury Lexa did not have with Costia and so she granted it to the sky girl. Wearily lying in the hammock, Clarke was again reminded how fragile the Commander was;that under her stoic facade was someone who felt just as much as her, if not more, but Clarke assumed that Lexa was trained at a young age to be what her people needed, learning the harsh lesson of what being in charge really meant. Clarke felt extremely privileged to be able to see the part of the Commander that lay under her assertive, strong and almost off putting demeanor. It wasn't rare for her to forget that underneath it all Lexa was hurting just as much as she was, if not more. If anything, Quint was correct when he alluded to fact that the Grounders had lost more than Sky People. Recalling that day, a smile played along the blonde's lips remembering how ruthlessly the Commander saved her from Quint, being trapped the in the cell with the Commander and finally seeing Lexa smile when she called her smart. All of this, and yet Lexa still walked away from her.

Content for a short while, Clarke lazily removed herself from her hammock, refusing to think further of the grounder and decided to focus on her survival. The sun must have been up for more than three hours and Clarke decided that she would spend the day burying the dead. She wanted to honor the Grounders that were lost by fire as per their traditions. Briefly, she considered setting up a rig so she could burn along with them, but she didn't want to die, she wanted peace and her death would not result in such. Since there was no longer flesh on the bones, the blonde figured it would be safe to bury the dead without the disturbance of animals. It was not a proper burial in the Grounder culture, but she once remembered it was considered proper by the people on earth prior to its destruction. And so, she set off to work, digging shallow graves until her hands blistered and bled and then dug some more. By the time early evening rolled around Clarke had buried 48 whole bodies and at least 72 partial bodies. The rest were ash, too fine to salvage. Unsure of what to do with the ashes, the blonde went to look for a vessel to put them in. She found what appeared to be an old coffee can, much like the one Raven put the explosives in when the 100 destroyed the bridge. It wasn't much, but it was a start. Clarke sprinkled a handful of ashes in the container and continued to do so until she felt herself as close to satisfied as she could be. With every handful, she released the words "Yu gonplei ste odon." Briefly, she thought about the way the Trigedasleng rolled off Lexa's tongue with such conviction at times and how it contrasted the times she said it with such sorrow. Clarke physically shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of the voice. She needed a distraction and this was it so the healer went back to thinking of her next step - what to do with the ashes.

It wasn't until the sun began to set that Clarke realized her stomach was about to eat through itself. Traps, she thought. She definitely should have paid attention when Lincoln was teaching Octavia about how to effectively set a trap. The blonde told herself and her rumbling stomach that she would go out tomorrow to hunt at first light - her hands were much too tattered to do so at the moment. She did, however, make use of what she had learned about medicine on the ground to make a salve of sorts; looks like Lexa making Nyko, Clarke and Abby work together was useful after all. The medicine made her hands stiff before she was able to relax under its cooling sensation. Clarke rummaged around the drop ship some more, finding odd little bits, and hoping she could use some of them to set up traps. She ended up with a tarp that had a gaping hole, a few bolts, wire, an assortment of cans, a buckle, worn out string and some stuff she couldn't place out but she figured she could use. Satisfied with her discoveries, Clarke retired for the evening.

That night, her dreams were plagued not with the dead, but the living. She dreamt of Octavia chastising her for risking Bellamy's life, for letting a bomb drop on Tondc and for trusting Lexa. She dreamt of Bellamy - how he had been close to killing Clarke more than once, how he saved her from falling into a pit of spikes, how he gave her forgiveness - though, it was not his she sought - and how he risked his life standing by her when he accused Gustus of trying to take down Lexa. She dreamt of the Commander, twirling her knife in her hand and the way her mouth emphasized the "k" at the end of her name. She dreamt of Lexa and the way she looked so young, so innocent without her make up. How Lexa had kissed her, and how it had made her soul lurch out of her body as if it was coming home. That night, she not only dreamt of Lexa, but was haunted by her. Lexa haunted her as Costia haunts the Lexa. "Only, Lexa is lucky," Clarke thought. "Costia is dead."

The following morning Clarke woke up to the smells of citrus air. As she lowered the drop ship door, sunlight poured in bouncing off the water on the foliage around her. The ground was still damp and gave quite a bit when Clarke stepped out. Despite all that had happened on the ground, the young leader was sure to thank her father everyday. She had let go of her hostility towards her mother, it didn't make it hurt any less, but she could no longer afford any malice, not anymore at least.

"Hey dad." Clarke began a ritual of talking with her father in her skybox and had since continued on the ground. It seemed crazy, but it quickly turned into a place she could escape. "It's been a while," her voice began to visibly shake and she wondered if she had the power to keep going. "I couldn't take it, seeing their faces, being held up like a hero... I don't feel like much of one. I feel confused and angry and so incredibly hurt." Without much warning, a bird flew past Clarke, whizzing by as if it was late for something. While on the Ark, she read a story about a bird that was late for a date with a mad man... or maybe it was a rabbit. It was one of her favorite stories because Alice was clever enough to change with her circumstances and believe in the impossible. She was angry with herself that she couldn't change, or maybe she changed too much on the ground, who was to say. Clarke felt the anger build up and her insides began to fester with frustration. "You knew." Clarke's voice held a sense of anger with an underlying tone of sadness. The blonde took off the cracked watch and violently threw it against a near by tree. Clarke was a mix of fury and in pain. Thoughts circulated through her head but it felt like she couldn't hold on to anything. "You knew," she repeated, with much more sorrow. "You knew, and you did nothing." Clarke felt as if she was holding onto a cliff, hanging by the tips of her fingers. She knew what she wanted, she wanted peace and reconciliation, but the journey to get there was not without its challenges. It amazed her that so many would tell her on the Ark that she was "just like her mother" when in fact she felt more like her father. Her father had an objectively and wildly courageous head on his shoulders, one Clarke tried to mirror. His cunning and excellence got him floated as Clarke's got her exiled, though her actions were at least by choice. In the end, someone they loved burned both her and her father. _Did she love Lexa?_ The question floated around in her head_...perhaps._ _At least, she could have loved her._ The uneasiness she felt towards her father's death had dissipated over the years, especially after she learned her mother was responsible. It didn't make it hurt any less, but the wounds had turned to scars and her heart was greater for it.

Just then, an agonizing scream echoed throughout the woods that made Clarke physically jump. Her shoulders tensed as her heart rate picked up. At first the screams mirrored those of Raven's but the sound then turned much more animalistic. Her healer's mind had not stopped playing tricks and she doubted that it would anytime soon. Another scream dictated Clarke's actions - she secured her knife on her waist and tore off toward the sound. A roar exploded followed by a series of yelps that came from the source of whatever was going on. Within seconds, Clarke came to a halt. She was face to face with a jet-black animal whose length was easily the size of her body. The large beast had electric green eyes that pierced Clarke's resolve and her hand fell to her dagger as an automatic response. Clarke tried her best to keep her composure and remember back to her earth studies class in an attempt to identify the animal in front of her. She held the eyes of the creature in front of her knowing all too well whose eyes they reminded her of. The sky girl did her best to think about earth studies - animals on the ground, cat like animals, large size, fairly small ears, black coat, long tail, pronounced facial features...it clicked. Clarke was face to face with a black panther. Her old teacher's voice wormed its way into Clarke's head reminding her that "panthers" don't actually exist. Rather, they are a dark version of a leopard whose fur had mutated into that of something black. The canopy of leaves blocked the natural light over the small clearing Clarke had found herself in. For all intents and purposes, Clarke was going to call this creature a panther until otherwise told. Slowly, and ever so cautiously, Clarke raised her hands, trying to alert the animal that she meant no harm, until she would help it; the creature made no indication one way or the other towards the healer's shaky movements. As the blonde began to process the scene in front of her, she realized that the hind leg of the panther was caught in a metal snare trap. Its tail methodically twitched left and right and when Clarke went closer to the hind side of the panther's body, the animal let out a warning growl, freezing her mid step. "Your hind leg is caught in the trap. Please, let me help." Desperation laced the healer's words and as if the beast could understand her intentions and genuine emotion behind the offer to help, it visibly relaxed. Clarke took this as a sign to continue. She carefully examined the trap and after a few minutes, she concluded that the only way to free the creature was to pry the snare open with her own hands. The large cat met her blue eyes once again and, in a silent understanding, waited for the girl to open the snare. Clarke's weathered hands went straight for the teeth of the trap and pried it open. The panther pulled its leg out from the trap and its tail whipped towards it body. With the weight in the trap, the snare clamped shut nicking the palm of Clarke's left hand. The blonde let out an exasperated groan of pain and the panther's eyes landed on her, stalking her every movement. _Great_, thought Clarke, _I save the thing's life only to die by it_. With the same caution and slowness that Clarke approached it, the panther limped towards the healer. Clarke stood, rooted in her spot as the blood began to drip down her fingertips. The cat stopped less than a meter away from Clarke and looked to her hand. Unsure of what to do beside extend it. She soon felt a tongue lapping at the cleaning her hand. It was an odd sensation, but it a sense of nurture and care overwhelmed Clarke. She stared once more into the eyes of the creature whose features had softened. The two stayed like this until Clarke's hand began to coagulate; without even realizing it, the hand that was unharmed was scratching the animal behind its ears, which was cause for a deep-throated purr. The blonde began to walk towards the drop ship wanting to return the favor of healing. As she began to walk, the panther cocked its head, unsure of what to do. Clarke's hand extended out offering the cat an invitation. Without a second thought, the creature hobbled over to the healer and they padded through the forest together, back to the ship.

The healer used various objects to stitch the panther's hind leg. Much to her surprise, the creature's face remained neutral despite the wear and tear that was going on. This was not the first time Clarke had operated on an animal, but she was certainly not well versed. In that moment, she wished her mother was there; surely she had more practice in this. Satisfied with her work, Clarke moved around to face the cat. "I am Clarke." she said matter of factly. Despite her conversations with her dad, the voice that flowed out of her mouth seemed foreign and unpracticed. "I am Clarke Griffin, daughter of Abby and Jake Griffin," she tried again. It still sounded unpracticed. "Clarke. Clarke kom Skaikru." The panther's paw moved from its resting position to just above the healer's left breast. By some miracle, the blonde felt neither threatened nor afraid. Rather, she felt comfort and a sense of renewal. "Clarke," she said once more, "Clarke kom Skaikru."

Without warning, the panther leapt up and landed somewhat gracefully considering the bum leg. Clarke began to berate the animal for not taking it easy relaying that the stitches would fall out and she didn't have anymore thin wire to hold the tendons together. She then stopped; realizing the creature could not understand her, but perhaps it could, judging by the seemingly apologetic look Clarke was receiving. The cat's form had tensed, sensing a nearby threat. Clarke remained still, rationalizing that the beast had much better healing and new its way around the forest much more than she. Together they waited, ready to pounce, but an intruder never came. After a few minutes of stillness, both the cat and sky girl visibly relaxed. A roar echoed through the tent only this time it wasn't coming from the cat, it came from the girl. In her single mindedness on the black cat in front of her, Clarke forgot about her original intention of going out. Before she could form a plan of action, the panther tore off, seemingly unbothered by its gimp leg. Clarke went to follow the panther, but by that point it had stuck into the fast approaching night. Oddly saddened by the sudden disappearance, the blonde when to go clean up the dropship and look for hunting supplies. She began collecting things she thought would be useful, a container, some rope, a few nails...in all honesty, she had no idea what she was doing. As she was making her way into the fresh air, she stumbled over something. When she looked down, she realized there was a sizeable rabbit lying at her feet. She definitely did not put that there. When she looked around she saw nothing. Absolutely nothing until her eyes locked with a green pair seated a few meters away. The panther had returned, its tail swishing back and forth with pride. Yet there remained a question in its eyes, a sense of unsureness - it was as if it was asking if the kill pleased Clarke. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but it again dawned on her that the panther couldn't understand her, though, she was beginning to doubt that more and more as the darkness came. The sky girl's stomach let out a hearty grumble and the panther took that as a sign that the kill was sufficient. The grumbling stomach and Clarke's hurried efforts aided her in getting a fire going.

Once the fire had started, Clarke could see a clear outline of not only the panther, but also an unmoving animal. Upon further investigation, she realized it was the torso of a deer. It was then she honestly allowed herself to wonder what the heck was going on. She was absolutely miffed by today's events. A large cat, that could easily chosen the sky girl as dinner, had decided to kill for her, let her heal it, returned the favor by licking her injured hand until it stopped bleeding and the most shocking - didn't kill her. Clarke sat by the fire as she watched shadows dance across the panther's face as it meticulously ate away at the raw meat. Methodically, she turned the now skinned rabbit until the outside turned a deep brown. Rabbit was not her first choice, not that she could be picky. Her favorite was moose, but she only had it once. After almost getting killed by the man-eating gorilla, the Commander had a special meal made for her and Clarke to "celebrate their victory of life". Lexa had two plates set across from each other with flickering candles splayed about the ground. According to sky customs, that was very much a date and Clarke wondered if Lexa knew that. During the time, a small part of her hoped that Lexa knew, that maybe she talked to Octavia or Raven and this was her quiet way of asking Clarke to be hers. With some hesitancy, Clarke bit into the rabbit, savoring the flavor. It was a bit burnt on the outside, but the juicy inside made up for the charcoal taste.

Clarke let the fire die naturally and watched the panther in awe of its being. After a few quiet minutes of observing, the cat moved towards Clarke, its head held high and constantly moving. It pawed around the fire a few times mimicking a perimeter check before settling down next to the blonde. Its head now rested on the blonde's lap and absentmindedly, Clarke began to pet the creature, enjoying the physical contact, even if it was with a killing machine.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when she awoke, Clarke's head was on the torso of a black cat with a heavy limb over her. Startled, Clarke's eyes darted around in a panic before the events of yesterday came flooding back. _That's right_, she thought, _this thing is my friend_… Sensing the human's conscious state, the panther lifted its paw, effectively freeing the sky girl. With a small smile, Clarke got up and began to stretch, as did the panther. Clarke was about to say good morning when she realized it had been awhile since she had something substantial to drink. _Hm, I wonder if the cat can sense that too_. Eyeing the human, the cat watched as Clarke made her way to the dropship to find a container of sorts. Victorious in her search, the blonde had come out with two cans, a tarp, and some wire as well. She exited the camp with the creature following behind her as if it was its duty. "You don't have to look after me you know - not that I don't mind, but I imagine you have your own stuff to do." The panther just stopped and looked at the blonde, its eyes conveying nothing short of concern. Clarke shrugged and started walking again and the panther followed once more. The blonde's left hand swung with every step and soon the beast by her side was close enough to get an occasional pat from the human it so dutifully stood by. The forwardness made the healer smile and she could have sworn she saw the panther relax under her touch and its eyes soften - surely she was imagining it. She attributed it to dehydration, which was soon to be rectified. She smelled it before she saw it - the smell of fresh water was never one to elude Clarke Griffin. She nearly broke into a full sprint in an effort to get to the source of bliss and freshness. The panther, of course, followed suit.

She got to the open area; the blonde physically dropped the objects she held and found her hands burrowed in the sandy bank. The panther simply observed and relaxed under the warm rays of the sun and the lightness it saw its savior. Clarke knew of the dangers the water could hold, she did not forget the first time Octavia jumped into the frigid lake and got attacked by some unknown. Carefully, Clarke waded into the waters with her protector right by her side. Truthfully, it was a bit weird having a cat a shadow, but she appreciated the cats indefinite company. "Thank you," her words bounced through the slow moving current and to the panther. The animal moved closer, nuzzling its head into Clarke's hand. The understanding was perplexing to the sky girl, but she took it as it was - she could honestly admit that he did not want this beast to leave. Could she even call it a beast anymore? This animal had shown her more compassion than more than half of the people she had met in her life.

Soon enough, the very animal that had been keeping a watchful eye on her was submerged in the water dipping and swerving every which way. The blonde was unsure if the exercise was good for the cat's muscles given the wires currently keeping them together, but she had yet to see any red in the water - perhaps the exercise was good. It seemed as if the cat was first checking the area to make sure no violent creatures were lurking, but soon a more playful side of the panther came out with more sporadic dips and dives in the water. The lightness of its actions brought a genuine grin to the healer's face seeing the protector's features so relaxed and cheerful. It was hard not to forget why she had gone to the water originally so before she allowed herself time to relax and bathe, Clarke set out to work finding wood dry enough to start a fire.

Thirty minutes later, the sky girl had fashioned herself a water purification system. One can was propped up over a fire, where the water began evaporating, thereby purifying the water from the lake in the can. The evaporated water would rise and gather on the angled tarp eventually landing in the can situated in the sand pure and drinkable. By that point, the panther had grown tired of the water and was resting on a flat rock near the bed of the river. Clarke smiled and walked over to join the large cat, resting her head on its midsection. The sky girl allowed the sun to kiss her skin and wash over her and soon she was dozing off. Occasionally, the cat's ears would twitch, alarming Clarke in her semiconscious state, but not enough to physically get up.

Clarke was unsure how much time had passed, but enough to allow clouds to roll over and block the sun cooling the rock considerably. It wasn't until she felt tiny pelts of water drop on her that she sat up straight realizing they needed to move before it began to storm. _Funny_, she thought, _they._ Less than 24 hours and Clarke was already thinking of this cat and herself as a unit - and in truth, they were. Hastily, the blonde gathered the fresh water as the sky darkened even more. Judging by the clouds, they didn't have time to make it back to the drop ship unless they wanted to get drenched. It suddenly dawned her that the bunker Lincoln used to hide away in wasn't too far off. She was wary to go there as it was not hers to retreat to, but the sky was making the decision for her as the rain began to fall in heavier doses. _Screw it_, the blonde thought as she tore off towards the bunker dropping the tarp in the process. The panther followed picking up the tarp in its mouth careful not to poke more holes in it. It took about five minutes for Clarke to get her bearings and another two to find the hideaway. The rain was now falling steadily in thick drops as it pelted against her skin. In hindsight, it would have been smart to cover herself with the tarp, but the afterthought was exactly that, an afterthought. From what she could tell, the place had been cleaned out some - she figured this was from Lincoln and Octavia's plan to head north to a neighboring clan.

Clarke painstakingly combed through the objects in the dimly lit room finding some extra supplies that were much more intact than her own. An extra dagger caught her eye with a curved handle. The striking resemblance to Lexa's was uncanny. The panther padded over to the object and picked it up in its teeth. It lay down and its green eyes met Clarke's confused blue orbs. "Thank you," the blonde spoke, albeit confused by the interaction. She held the cat's eyes for a while before a long slender object caught her eye - a pencil. Upon further investigation, there were many pencils, all placed in glass jar. She was so tempted to take them and draw, to see if her unpracticed hands could remember the strokes, but paused, her hand suspended in mid air. After all, they were not hers to take; they were Lincoln's. Clarke was aware of Grounder culture in that taking what was not yours was severely frowned upon and often seen as a challenge to the owner. While Lincoln was not here, she still felt the need to abide by said customs. She stared at the pencils, contemplating the repercussions of her potential actions. The panther moved to the jar and picked up a single pencil, proceeding to give it to the unpracticed artist. Clarke was again miffed by the interaction, but took the pencil without much further thought. She then found a blank piece of paper, gripping the pencil until her knuckles turned white. The panther saw this interaction and nudged Clarke's elbow creating the first stroke. It was short and hard, but it was enough to get the blonde going; it was as if she never stopped, sure her strokes weren't as confident, but the end product was a lean black cat laying on a flat rock, bathing in the sun. Clarke wanted more, she had forgotten how therapeutic and cathartic drawing had been for her. She could still hear the rain plodding down above her and decided that tonight was going to be about her - she was going to draw, grounder culture be damned.

It was a frenzy of art, pencil slashing, papers crumpling and frustrated groans, but the result was magnificent. Clarke had constructed eleven drawings of the past and one; a single drawing of what she hoped would be the future. Of the eleven past drawings, the majority of them were faces and people. One of was Octavia and Lincoln as the girl trembled over the unconscious reaper. Messy strands of hair fell in Octavia's face as she was suspended, her thumb on the presumably fallen warriors cheek. Another drawing was of Monty and his face of concentration when he was trying to make contact with the Ark. Clarke remembered quite vividly the way his brow furrowed in deep concentration and the way his eyes blinked in disbelief as he held his hands up in victory when he completed the circuit. Little did they all know, the monsters in the mountain were already at work jamming their signal to the Ark. The third drawing was of Jasper and the way his body slumped against a tree, a spear thrown cleanly through his body. It was not the happiest of scenes, but it was the first time the 100 realized how much true danger they were in. The fourth was of Wick and Raven - even though Raven had said that she was cool with Clarke, it still hurt the blonde tremendously knowing that Finn not only fell for Clarke, but she had in turn fell for him effectively moving in on Raven's relationship. It brought the healer a lot of happiness knowing that Raven had found someone to love - if not love, like much too completely. The fifth drawing in the series was of her mother. This one, perhaps, took the longest as she had a difficult time capturing the doctor's face when she first found Clarke on the ground. The moment stopped Clarke's heart and made her ache - too many times had she thought she saw her mother die and too many times had she felt lost without her. Through her drawing, Clarke could finally admit that she needed her mother and though Abby doted on her as if she was still her baby girl, the artist enjoyed the affection. At the end of the day, she would always need her mother. Did that make her weak? Perhaps, but it was a good thing she did not share the opinions of Lexa - feelings were not a weakness to the blonde. Feelings were her strength. The next few drawings were of the masses that had fallen. She drew Bellamy with the culling of the Ark his tears as they fell from his eyes like starlight. She drew the Grounders she had filleted alive with Anya's awestruck face as she looked at her deceased people. She drew Lexa with the weight of the fallen on her shoulders due to the bomb dropped on Tondc. She drew a shell of herself with the faces of children she mercilessly killed in the mountain filling her head and heart with despair.

Her last three pieces were of those she loved and lost. She drew her father as he handed her mother his watch as a farewell gift. He had an ashen, yet resigned looked about him and the blonde guessed that her father knew that his own wife sold him out. All the same, he still held a look of love and understanding, which baffled Clarke. The next drawing was that of her Finn as he was laid on the pyre. Though she could not see his face, she drew his hair and forehead peeking out from the sheets as it was slowly engulfed in flames. The twelfth and final drawing was of Polis, or at least how she imagined it. She drew water, some broken down building and a Commander, surrounded by children so adamantly adoring her. She spent the longest time looking at her final sketch, as did the panther by her side. Both of them were overcome with a sense of wonderment for different reasons and both of them fell asleep with the images heavy in their minds.

When Clarke awoke the following morning she found her body was again trapped in between a warm body and a large paw. Only this time, the cat was not awake. Unsure of what to do, Clarke thought starting with simple head movements would do the trick, it was a miracle this panther kept her alive as long as it did - she didn't need to go ruin it by scaring it awake. With a throaty growl, the panther's green eyes flashed open dangerously scanning the area only to realize its keeper was just trying to set herself free. Clarke was astonished at the emotion this single creature could display and was that sorrow she was seeing? As she untangled herself from the grips of a supposedly menacing creature, it occurred to the blonde that the rain had stopped. Dusting herself off, she looked around the room, suddenly remembering the artistic escapade she went on the previous night. Painstakingly, she collected her drawings and folded them into the tarp in an attempt to preserve them. Eyes from the stars met eyes from the ground and Clarke felt something twinge inside of her. Betrayal flashed through her heart and worry through her mind - still, she refused to acknowledge that this animal sitting in front of her had the eyes of a commander. Not just a commander, Clarke reminded herself, _the_ Commander. "What do I call you?" The panther's head titled thirty degrees to the right. "Well, I introduced myself, it is only fair that I know your name as well." The large cat leaned toward the healer and let out a soft, but strained, tone rivaling that of a newborn. From what Clarke gathered, the sound seemed to be broken into two syllables that rose and fell with each tone. "Hania?" the healer spoke. What seemed to be a satisfied grin crossed the cat's features. "Hania it is," Clarke paused, "would you look at that dad, I can speak cat!" A goofy grin grew on Clarke's face as she finished packing up. It was absolutely beyond her what was happening, but she was alive. As much as it pained her, the healer was thankful to be alive.

Clarke and Hania successfully made their way out of the bunker and back to the drop ship where the two of them were relaxing by the fire. For the first time since the mountain, the blonde's mind was not plaguing her with vile thoughts, instead her hand lazily drew Hania's face as the cat herself finished the remains of breakfast. She was trying to capture the well defined nose when a tail gently thwaked her head pushing it forward slightly. Clarke looked to see green eyes staring at her and she tensed. Usually when the beast was on alert, that meant it thought there was danger lurking, but Hania's muscles were relaxed and her ears were still. It clicked that Hania was playing with the sky girl, so Clarke picked up a near by stick and tossed it with the same gentleness as the cat did aiming for the nose of the animal. The twig bounced off Hania's nose and a paw trapped it on the ground, securing the "weapon" so it could no longer be of use - or so Clarke thought. A paw swiftly came up bringing the twig with it along with some dirt, all in the direction of the sky girl. Soon enough the panther and the blonde were rolling around with smiles plastered onto their faces, or what Clarke considered to be a smile for Hania.

Clarke lay on the ground chuckling to herself when suddenly noticed Hania was nowhere in sight. A bit concerned, she sat up only to see a black blur coming at her. She laughed and braced herself for another light tackle but it never came. Instead, she heard a whiz of an arrow fly past her ear and the crunch of a knife spinning the arrow off target. Hania landed unharmed and immediately stood over Clarke, protecting her from the obvious threat. The blonde was at a loss, it had been quiet the last few days that she did not think to keep the dagger on her - she was truly and utterly defenseless. Save for the killing machine looming over her, of course. That's when Clarke heard it, a rustle in the bushes from her right side, behind her head. There was no way someone could have shot the arrow from above given the trajectory of flight, the knife on the other hand was straight in the ground which concerned the healer and panther alike.

"Damnit," if she hadn't been so on edge there would have been no way she could have heard it - or was she still imagining things? Listening intently, the blonde strained herself as she heard what she thought was another arrow being knocked. Hania released a bone chilling growl that made even Clarke shudder. Another arrow came flying from the same direction and Hania ducked, her underside pressed firmly against Clarke. A flash of what seemed like embarrassment graced the creature's features, but was gone as quickly as it came. When Clarke looked around, she saw the arrow lodged in the decaying wood from when the delinquents build a wall around the drop ship with the naive notion that it would keep the Grounders it. No one from the Ark could shoot like that, so it had to have come from a Grounder, but the voice...the voice, imagined or not, was young. It clicked. No one on the Ark could shoot like that, but a young female Blake sure could. "Octavia?" the blonde chanced… There was nothing. No rustling, now arrowing knocking, nothing. Clarke put a hand on Hania's chest, pleading for trust as she got up from under that cat. "Damnit Octavia," Clarke said with more conviction this time, "I know its you. You're the only one who can shoot like that who says the word -"

"Okay, okay. Jeesh," came the voice. A brunnette gracefully hurdled over the foliage that concealed her, "You got me sky princess. Now what's with the cat?" A gruff snort came from behind causing all three females to turn around, "I was wondering the same thing."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: My Trigedasleng isn't too great, especially the grammar portion. I provided the translation directly after the phrase and anything with is an asterisk is something I made up. Thank you to the people who left reviews/followed/favorite. Your feedback is very much appreciated and keeps me thinking!

ashor3: I try my best to stay original...I'm glad you are enjoying it thus far!  
MJandSports: I've been so swamped with work, an internship and school that this story has been brewing in my mind. Seldom do I have time to write, but I am glad I can when I get the chance. Thanks for your feedback!  
xxIceEyesxx27: All I can say is thank you, and that does not cover it.  
turtle: One, I love turtles, and two thank you!  
lowie: I'm pumped for that interaction, my outline changed a bit so I hope you enjoy what is to come when that meeting happens.

"Okay, okay. Jeesh," came the voice. A brunette gracefully hurdled over the foliage that concealed her, "You got me sky princess. Now what's with the cat?" A gruff snort came from behind causing all three females to turn around, "I was wondering the same thing."

"Lincoln," the two females breathed out with a range of emotion. Octavia's eyes lit up with relief while Clarke visibly stiffened, her face relaying nothing short of bewilderment.

"I thought you went to Polis," Octavia questioned. Lincoln gave a shameful shake of his head.

"I intended to," he began to explain, "but I had to stop in my bunker to get some last minute stuff and seek refuge from the rain. That's where I found her." He motioned to Clarke and eyes locked on hers. Clarke held his gaze before stuttering an apology. Lincoln shrugged and continued, "She was asleep, and had this...uhm, animal's paw on her chest." Both Lincoln and Octavia were now looking at Clarke who knew she was expected to explain how she encountered such a creature. As she told her tale, the power couple stared at her intently, in awe of what she was relaying. She told them everything, thinking it was pointless to gloss over any details. In the process, she apologized to Lincoln for using his art supplies and invading his home. He brushed it off again, understanding that drawing was an escape and offered his fortress of solitude to the sky girl whenever she wanted. He understands the blood on the healer's hands, but he had been around those who had killed more than he and understand the need to get away. It was why he forged the bunker after all.

"So that's pretty much what happened since I left Jaha. Nothing too exciting."

"Expect that you're friends with a stealthy black killing machine," noted Octavia. Clarke shrugged and Lincoln mumbled something gaining the attention of the two women. Instead of focusing on them, his eyes locked with Hania's.

"Trikova," he stated simply, keeping his eyes locked on green.

"A shadow?" Octavia questioned. Lincoln nodded his head.

"It rarely happens, but yes." Both girls looked puzzled, so the Grounder continued to explain, "A shadow has a few meanings in our culture. One being the dark figure cast by the sun, as I am sure you two are familiar with that definition. Another meaning is a soul that watches over you. Some shadows haunt you - others," again he looked to Hania, "protect you. That is why I stopped your arrow, _houmon_." Lincoln gave a pointed look to his girlfriend which caused Octavia to visibly blush; Clarke made a mental note to ask Octavia about Lincoln's term of endearment as she had not heard it before. As for now, there were more pressing questions.

"So what, are you saying that the _mighty powers_ decided to give me protection because I was deemed "worthy"?" Clarke's words were harsh and filled with sarcasm.

"Something like that," replied Lincoln. Clearly the blonde had a lot to process, but the question that was on the forefront of her mind was why the couple was here. Octavia watched with an observant eye - she saw how Clarke's shoulders slumped and how the strain in the girl's face and neck was struggling to hold the girl up. Octavia was not particularly fond of being here, she still had a bone to pick with the princess, but at least now she had some semblance of understanding. Clarke released a huff of air and her lips pressed together.

"Why are you here, Octavia? I understand Lincoln was making his way to Polis, but that doesn't explain why you're here."

Octavia lay curled up in Lincoln's embrace letting the rise and fall of his chest lull her into a more peaceful state. The battle of Mount Weather was not what she had expected. First of all, her "beloved" Commander struck a deal to free her people with the very men that enslaved her own people. How did red flags not go off in her head? Second, because of her deal, she turned her back on the sky people and effectively her brother. Her allegiance to her brother cost her, she was no longer TriKru. Though, Octavia would argue with Bellamy and say she never was, she was still Skaikru. The brunette internally scoffed - how did growing up under floor boards make her Skaikru? She never interacted with anyone other than the night of the one masquerade, and look how well that went, but, perhaps Bellamy had some merit in saying so. She was livid with the Commander and she turned her back on Indra - like Lincoln, she too was a traitor to the Trikru, but she didn't necessarily belong to the Skaikru either. "Your thoughts are loud, Octavia. Can we not enjoy a breath after war for a bit longer?" The girl said nothing, and simply snuggled into Lincoln more, which he seemed to enjoy, and the brunette drifted off soon after.

Somehow sunlight managed to make its way into their secluded metal confinement and that is how the pair woke up - with sunlight pouring into their eyes. It was Lincoln who woke up first and he looked at the girl in his arms. The strongly built man thought about all the girl had mentioned. Not that they really had time to share, but he gathered that Octavia grew up under the floorboards and that when the Sky Council found her, she was simply moved into a bigger cage and her mother was executed. Bellamy was still an enigma to him but, slowly, he was beginning to figure out the freckled boy. His impulsive and explosive tendencies use to get him in trouble, but since he arrived on the ground, he seemed to realize that his decisions held weight and that failing to calculate each and every option was not wise. Lincoln had also figured out that Bellamy's loyalty to Octavia was so deep rooted that it could very well get him killed. What scared him was that he knew the same was in the reverse. The dark skinned man released a long, resigned sigh. It was a dangerous sport, loving something so completely. Neither Clarke nor Octavia knew that he had been there when Lexa lost Costia. Gustus, Anya, and himself had been there to console her and pick the pieces, so to speak. Indra had seen the tail end of the healing process, or in Lexa's case, the last of the walls she fortified to guard herself. There were certainly moments that Lincoln saw the walls crumble and crack, but he knew better to confront her. Losing Costia built the Commander but destroyed Lexa, he saw the young girl he would swordplay with turn into a calculated, stoic shell of a person. In all honesty, it hurt him. He was by no means in love with Lexa, but she was a sister to him and seeing her crumble was not an easy for either of them or anyone for that matter. There were those who thought the Commander was to young and the death of her lover did her well, after all, the product was uniting the 12 clans. Lincoln firmly believed that was more for Costia than herself - having the threat of the mountain did not hurt though. "Together we conquer, divided we fall." It was the Commander's platform and when Indra moved up the ladder to become one of the top generals, she was not shy in expressing her opinion that Lexa was better for having lost. There is no doubt that the strong minded woman helped carve the Commander to be ruthless and unforgiving. Anya on the other hand, had been with Lexa since she was young and knew how fiercely Lexa felt. Anya did not see love as a weakness, but she certainly knew the dangers of such an emotion and cautioned her second accordingly. "Your thoughts are loud," came a tired voice. Lincoln gave hearty chuckle and kissed the top of the head of the girl in his arms. Both warriors released a long sigh in tandem.

"I was thinking," began the Grounder born man, "about the relationship between the Skai and Tri Krus." Octavia physically tensed and scoffed. "Octavia, you cannot discount the Trikru. Your ill will does not suit you and will compromise you out there." His eyes cast to the sun that had moved to to their left.

"I don't get it, Lincoln. How can you not be mad at Lexa? She had you attacked and tied up for goodness sake."

"She has appearances to keep up."

"What is that suppose to mean?" asked the girl, raising her voice slightly. Lincoln inhaled, letting the metallic air which he despised fill his lungs. He began to explain his real relationship with the Commander, not just his professional one. "There's a heart in there," he spoke with such finality, "but Lexa has buried it down so deep I don't know if she knows where it is."

"She lost Costia, I get that, but that still does not excuse what she did."

"I am not saying that it does, she turned her back on an alliance your people worked so hard to maintain, but she has lost more than just Costia. When she was called to lead, there was an assassination attempt no more than two hours in. She was the youngest Heda and now is the strongest, but it cost her her childhood. She was isolated, taken away from her village and brought to Polis to train. She saw her family once a month for a few hours and then it was back to training." Octavia gave a noncommittal grunt and Lincoln continued. "She had a brother, a year or so older. He was her best friend and was turned into a reaper when he was nine. He ventured too far from the mountain and began to attack his home village - Lexa had to kill him to protect her village and to prove her worth as a commander at the age of eight. Two weeks later, she saw her remaining family slaughtered before her eyes on her ninth birthday. She had gotten some time off from training and wanted to go surprise her parents - she remained hidden in the bushes as her village was burned to the ground. At that point she had met Costia and had someone to confide it, to help manage the hurt, but losing Costia was the final straw. The product is what you see today. Do not forget, Octavia, that often those who are stoic and unfeeling are the ones who once felt the most." Octavia was silent, not sure whether she was impressed by Lincoln's words, still angry at the Commander for her betrayal, angry at Lincoln for being so damn considerate and accepting or mad at herself for not realizing how much the decision must have weighed down on Lexa. She made a note to think about it.

"How did you escape?" she asked, changing the conversation.

"Indra," Lincoln replied simply.

"What?" Octavia sat up and blinked in disbelief.

"She made me chose, Trikru and forgiveness or you. It was not a hard decision, really. She cares about you, O. She may have disowned you as her second, but she has not stopped caring. I suspect she was testing me. I am still a traitor to them, but Indra is changing. She was not afraid to express how she thought the Commander was weak and how death strengthened Lexa. I believe now, she is realizing the balance of emotion and detachment is what makes for the best anything. The old Lexa is coming back - do you think she would allow Clarke to pull all of her stunts if she didn't feel something for her?"

"What, Clarke and the Commander?" Lincoln nodded, "I guess it makes sense, I'll have to ask her." The words hung in the air leaving the couple to their respective thoughts. Octavia wondered if Clarke would even talk about it after what she said in the tunnels. Minutes passed in a comfortable silence until Octavia's stomach began to rumble, signaling the need for sustenance. The eating area was not far off and both Octavia and Lincoln were ready for some normalcy. Bellamy joined the couple with a heavy look about his face and ate in silence for the most part. Finally Octavia broke the silence and, with an exasperated sigh, she asked her brother about his composure, or lack there off.

"Just a long few days, O. Nothing to worry about, I have to say, I am glad not to be in a baby-food-colored uniform." His sister gave a quick laugh.

"Hey, where's Clarke? I understand yesterday was draining, but I figured she'd at least come and get food." Bellamy's shoulders visibly dropped and his eyebrows furrowed together, suddenly finding food quite intriguing. "Bell? What are you telling me?"

"She took off, said she couldn't be here anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she's not here. Is that so impossible to understand?" It had been a while since anyone had seen Bellamy explode and all eyes were on him. "I'm going for a walk," he muttered leaving his food untouched. Octavia rushed after her brother and grabbed his elbow pushing him up against the outside of the Ark.

"No, you don't get to do this; explain, Bell." The fire in the girl's eyes was obvious, "And don't you dare bullshit me."

The boy gave a small laugh, "Lincoln was right, you are very strong. I'm sorry for forgetting that." Octavia smirked and her grip on her brother loosened.

"That still doesn't explain anything," she said with a softer inflection.

"Octavia...we killed. We killed them all and it was Clarke who made that decision. We pulled a lever that wiped out innocents, children, people who helped us survive. She killed Dante Wallace point blank for effect and saw her mother being tortured, helpless to do anything. She just..couldn't - and honestly, if I didn't have you I couldn't either." The admission was big for her brother, the independent, strong-minded leader, fessing up to how much he needed his sister. "Clarke doesn't have anyone like I have you. I tried, you know, I tried to give her forgiveness. I gave her forgiveness, but it's not what she needs. She needs it from herself and possibly the Commander."

"She has her mother," Octavia offered.

"A mother she cannot look at without seeing everything she has lost." The sky born woman suddenly felt very guilty for unloading onto Clarke in the tunnels.

"Where did she go?" Bellamy offered nothing more than a shrug.

"A part of me hopes she went to go see Lexa."

"Why?" the girl scoffed again at the name.

"Because Lexa understands. I know you don't understand or particularly like your commander at the moment, but she has a soft spot for our blondie."

"Funny, that's what Lincoln said."

At the mention of his name, the man appeared by his girlfriend's side. "We should talk," he spoke quietly.

"Lincoln and I talked for a few hours before we decided that him going to Polis would be best for both the Skai and Tri Krus. I wanted to wait a few more days, but it's been obvious that it is uncertain what is to happen with the Skaikru."

"I don't understand, we killed off a race that had been torturing the Grounders - how does that not make us strong?"

"It doesn't matter. Other nations are ready to attack and raid. They are a more radical group, tired of the old traditions and are ready to start using our weapons. That's why we need this mediation between groups."

"A liaison," Clarke stated simply. Lincoln's eyebrow shot up, unfamiliar with the term.

"Someone who communicates between two parties or groups, an ambassador of sorts. The big lug and I figured he would be best having experienced both cultures." A resigned sigh came from the healer. Clarke thought a moment, it was certainly not a bad idea, but just having Lincoln as the liaison may seem like the Grounders are trying to tip the scale in their favor.

"You should too, O."

"Which is why I am here," she responded all too quickly. Clarke knew the answer was bull, but hadn't the energy to argue or further inquire.

"Oh. Okay...uhm bye then? I don't want to keep you from Polis." Octavia remained unmoved and the healer could see the conflict in her eyes. Octavia let out a steady breath.

"I don't understand why," Clarke raised an eyebrow, "Why trust Lexa?" the blonde's hand made a tight fist and the cat by her side could feel the tension rolling off from the two women in waves.

"We won against the mountain, what does it matter wh-" The blonde didn't get a chance to finish.

"Yeah, no thanks to her."

Despite Octavia's distaste for Clarke in the tunnels, the intensity had subsided, or so she thought. She honestly did not plan to call out Clarke, but it seemed she had some unresolved anger, hence her shortness. Especially during the last few days, she had time to think about her words in the tunnel and how Lincoln's words put what she said in perspective. The muscular man gave his girlfriend a small look of disappointment and slight confusion, seeing her attack on the broken leader unnecessary.

Octavia had almost forgotten about the large cat by Clarke's side and flinched when it began to move towards her. Clarke was unsure how the panther was going to react, so she decided it best to lay a hand on its neck as it stalked towards the brunette. Intense forest green eyes bore into the brunette and it appeared as if the cat was ready to attack, its teeth showing and legs low, ready to strike.

"Hania…" the healer cautioned. The panther froze and looked to Clarke being sure to maintain its composure, but relaxed when it saw the hurt in Clarke's eyes and backed away, turned on its heels and sprinted to the forest. Octavia gave the blonde a confused look while Lincoln looked nothing short of impressed. The brunette huffed with annoyance and slight amusement.

"Kamp raun, Oktevia." (Stay near, Octavia) Octavia glared at Lincoln, wishing her eyes could pierce through him. "No mo, ste kom Klark . Nou mou kom Klark, ai get klin kar* Beja?" (Enough, stay with Clarke. No more with Clarke, I know you care. Please?) he spoke with such determination. Great, Clarke thought, at least I know they're talking about me. For the amount of time she had been around Lexa she failed to pick up on Trigedasleng, and right now, she was regretting it. Lincoln looked amused and Octavia huffed in annoyance once more.

"Fine," she spat, "only for you." Lincoln grinned and began walking away from the women. "No no, where do you think you are going?"

"To Polis, the plan does not change."

"Beja, Linkon. Ste." Lincoln knew if he did not stay, Octavia may flee; he grunted in response throwing his spear into the ground marking their area. The blonde was now unsure what to do, she muttered something about going to find Hania and hastily left camp, leaving Lincoln and Octavia at a stand still.

"What?" bit the brunette?

"Was that necessary, _houmon_?"

"No no, you don't get to _houmon_ me. Not now Lincoln," despite her frustration, Octavia could not help but to smile at the term of endearment.

"Just try," started Lincoln, "try to get along. You know she's been through a lot - I thought you were over this."

"So did I," replied the girl. Lincoln nodded, understanding the girl's reluctance. His own reconciliation process with Indra was not an easy one, it was understandable the difficulty Octavia was facing finding forgiveness for Clarke, the Sky People, Lexa, and Indra.

"Should we follow her?"

"What?" Octavia responded, startled out of her thoughts.

"Clarke, should we follow her, help her look for Hania?" Octavia weighed the options, wondering if it would be an invasion of the healer's privacy.

"Quietly, yes." Lincoln failed miserably at hiding the smirk that took over his face.

"I never said I didn't care," the girl teased, shouldering Lincoln's built chest. It didn't take long for them to track Clarke, her forrest skills regarding stealth had hardly improved which quietly concerned Octavia; perhaps she should train the blonde.

Octavia situated herself in a tree that overlooked the surrounding area. Lincoln whispered something about going to seek dinner for the three. The brunette hardly nodded, fixated on the blonde not so far off. Clarke's shoulders were rapidly falling up and down, wracked with sobs as her companion's head lay in her lap. Neither of the girls were aware of how much time had elapsed, but enough for the sun to fall below the treeline. The healer was unsure why she was crying, the emotions of the last few weeks had simply all hit her once. _It was dangerous_, she reminded herself, _to stand still. Thinking will be the death of me._ When Clarke moved to get up, Octavia scrambled down from the tree as quietly and quickly as she could. She beat the blonde back to the dropship by a few minutes and discovered that Lincoln had found a boar and it was well underway, roasting over a fire. In their quiet moments before the blonde returned, Octavia was emotionally drained and physically dropped next to Lincoln allowing herself a moment of weakness next to the man. Her heart hurt after seeing the healer so distraught and run down. It would do her well to remember that they all had burdens to shoulder, but that was no reason to turn on one another.

The evening was tame compared to the rest of the day. The four had eaten in relative silence, accompanied by the crackling fire and Hania's incessant licking of her paws. It was Octavia to break the silence. "I was never supposed to relieve the guard from his south post that night, was I?" Clarke recognized where the conversation was headed, but only nodded in a brief acknowledgement. "Lincoln told me, Clarke. The Commander wanted me dead." Octavia spoke as if it was now apart of everyday life, the irony in it all was that _was_ what their life had become. "You stopped that from happening." Clarke refused to acknowledge this. "Lincoln and Indra figured it out…"

"She cares," the blonde said plainly.

"She freed Lincoln to help save us," Octavia stated. She figured it was easiest to stick with the facts for now. While Clarke was not aware of this fact, she had not held it past the general. Indra had a silent affinity for the girl from the floorboards, it was rewarding to see the Grounder finally act on it. "Lexa allowed it too. She cares, Clarke."

Clarke whipped around, tiring of the conversation, "Don't you think I know that?!" she snapped, "She is the most merciful one of all of us, and I can't hate her. I can't hate her," the healer repeated. She was fuming, her muscles tensed and her words bounced around in Octavia's head as she took in the girl in front of her. "I can't hate her so I hate myself," Clarke finished. The words cut through Octavia like hot metal on innocent flesh. She was surprised by the sudden outburst and again felt a weight of guilt on her back for repeatedly telling Clarke she wasn't good enough. The night continued with a thick air and neither of the girls dared to say anything further of the topic. By the time the fire died down Octavia and Lincoln had retreated to their makeshift shelter and Clarke was dozing off, enjoying the warmth of the cat beside her.

Clarke and Octavia had fallen into a silent morning pattern, and despite the occasional outburst, the days were comfortable. Clarke would wake first and make sure the brunette warrior was still there. She would lay still, her hands running through Hania's fur while she waited for Octavia to get up. The two would check the perimeter of the shelter and take turns bathing in the river before checking the traps. Octavia would occasionally meet up with Lincoln who enjoyed exploring while the blonde washed herself. As the sun would reach its climax in the day, Clarke would find herself wandering the woods with Hania. Sometimes she would lead the dark haired beast, scouting various parts of the woods. Other times she would let the cat lead the adventure. Her favorite spot was a cliff that overlooked a still river. At least twice a week she would sit there, her back against Hania, and draw. Despite her impulse drawings in Lincoln's bunker, her hands were still reacquainting themselves with the medium. Her strokes were still harsh with hard, geometric lines, but as the days progressed, her lines became softer and more organic. Regardless of how she spent her day, she made sure to find her way home by nightfall, dutifully returning to the dropship.

On a particularly warm night by the fire, Octavia was sprawled out leaning against Lincoln. Her content smile normalized the situation for the blonde and almost made her forget the unforgiving world outside of their bubble. Almost.

Clarke had heard them talking over the days, reconciling with the fact that they belonged to neither the Sky People or Tree Clan.

"_Don't you get it, Lincoln? We have no home. We are not theirs nor are we from the ground. We are nothing." The fighter spoke with an exasperated tone while she solemnly looked at the warrior in front of her._

"_You seek a home?"_

_Octavia stared blankly back at Lincoln. "You do not?"_

_Lincoln smiled before he responded. "My home travels with a fierce heart and a resilient head. It matters not if I am Trikru or Skaikru. Wherever you are, Octavia, I am home." Octavia looked stunned for a moment and mumbled something in Trigedasleng. Lincoln responded with a warm smile and open arms. That night neither Octavia nor Lincoln returned until the following midday. The girl from under the floorboards looked lighter, happier even. And if that didn't warm Clarke's heart she didn't know what would._

The healer's head was against Hania's midsection and her head shifted under the flexing muscles of the panther as she cleaned her paws. While Clarke and Octavia bathed, the blonde learned her companion would take that time to hunt. It was remarkable to Clarke how such a fierce and ruthless animal could take someone like Clarke- who Hania could easily devour in one bite- in and form a protective relationship. The blonde thought back to the day she found Hania in a snare, how her foot was mangled and her eyes screamed alarm. The beast cared, and so did Clarke. "I'm sorry for snapping at you the other day." Octavia sat up knowing what the blonde was referencing.

"I should not have pushed. Bell and Lincoln kept saying there was something there between you two." Her words were suspended, and her thoughts were unfinished. Clarke was thankful for the cover of night, otherwise the couple would have seen the blush rising from her neck. "Are you okay?" the brunette asked tentatively.

"I will be," it was the most truthful answer the healer could give. Hania purred and laid her head down on her paws. Octavia smiled and Lincoln murmured something in his native tongue to which Octavia smiled and chuckled a bit. Clarke's back went rigid, and she sat up straight.

"Teach me," it sounded more demanding than anything. "I mean," the blonde gathered herself, "I want to learn Trigedasleng. If I am going to go to Polis, I'll need to know it, right?" Both Lincoln and Octavia raised an eyebrow at Clarke's intention to visit Polis with them, but chose to sidestep the matter, instead addressing the immediate question.

"Technically no, English is the prominent language there. Polis is our capital and not all clans are familiar with our dialect. You would not -" Octavia held up her hand, effectively silencing Lincoln.

"We start tomorrow." Lincoln gave Octavia a look, but did not question her decision. He was happy the two girls were finally working out whatever tension was between them. The brunette seemed content to be teaching Clarke something, instead of the otherway around. The Grounder attributed that to Octavia's upbringing, or lack there of. For a gross majority of her life, Octavia had been conditioned to follow orders. "Hide under the floorboards, don't get caught, be quieter, stay out of trouble, don't wander…". It was surprising the girl was not a basket case.

Clarke began her linguistic training that night. Lincoln was to talk to her in nothing but Trigedasleng and if need be, Octavia would translate. Within three days, the blonde could hold a decent conversation. It was broken, but it served it purpose. Despite the amicable atmosphere, there was still a clear divide between the four parties. Lincoln and Octavia would stick together as would Clarke and Hania. The three had been talking more, and although the conversation was still detached, no party would concede in addressing any real issues; it was a conversation at that, and it was a start. All the same, Clarke felt lighter with their company. It surprised her, as she escaped from the Ark for the very reason that she felt being around others would weigh too heavily on her shoulders. _She bore it so others didn't have to._ Beside her, Hania purred as Clarke's tongue ran through the hardened sounds of Trigedasleng. Octavia had been right, the language was not that difficult, but as with any language, understanding the speech pattern and grammar was.

"Oktevia," the brunette looked up, "haukom kamp yu raun hir?"

"Haukom **yu** kamp raun hir?" (Why are you here?) the warrior corrected. Clarke huffed in annoyance. "Hey, you're the one who said you wanted to learn the language."

"And you're the one avoiding the question," the blonde retorted. Octavia gave a weak smile.

"I just need to know where you stand when it comes to this alliance Lincoln and I are trying to reform."

"If that were so you would have left as soon as you found me. It's been almost two weeks and Lincoln has wandered off, but you have stayed. Beja, haukom yu kamp raun hir? Ron ai ridiyo op." (Please, why are you here? Speak true.)

Lincoln watched proudly from a distance as he saw various emotions play out on his other half's face before she acquiesced, "I care, okay?" The blonde said nothing, "God, you are so incredibly difficult…" groaned Octavia. The brunette stood up and began to pace. "Look," huffed Octavia, "I may not agree with what you and the Commander did at TonDC, I may not like that you sent my brother to infiltrate Mount Weather, but you did what you had to do. I can respect that." Clarke stood, processing the information, well aware of the weight of the admission from the warrior and honestly dumbfounded by it all. It all her time on the ground, she knew Octavia to be hardheaded and stubborn, almost more than Lexa. Hania let out a content purr and the healer spoke out of reverence once she collected her thoughts.

"Mochof, Oktevia." The brunette could almost see Clarke's heart swell and in that moment, Clarke knew she wanted nothing more that to have her friend back. It hurt too much to be aloof and, briefly, the healer wondered how much hurt Lexa was put through to harden her shell so tactfully.

Clarke was pulled out of her thoughts when Octavia surprised her by wrapping her arms around the taller woman. "I stayed because you need to come to Polis. The sky people need this alliance," she paused when Clarke stiffened at the mention of her people, "but more importantly, you need to talk to Lexa." The healer knew this and did nothing to fight it, she nodded into the girl's shoulder silently worried that she was not ready for this display of raw emotion. Admittedly, she felt a bit dizzy - the feeling had a striking likeness to the mixed emotion she felt after Lexa threw her out of the Commander's tent. "We leave tomorrow," Octavia finished. Not the she gave Clarke much of an option on the matter.

"Clarke?" Lincoln said in a small voice, "She will continue to break her own heart so no one else can because she thinks it is easier. Show her that opening up herself is worth it."

*kar - care

A/N: I'm not going to lie, updates will be slow. I will try to post at least biweekly, but we shall see. I will not abandon the story, I can guarantee that. Come chat with me if you'd like either here or at .com.


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke woke up much earlier than she intended and groaned when she saw that it was still dark out. Beside her, Hania began to stir, awakened by the blonde's conscious state. Clarke got up and looked to her right, happy to find Octavia sleeping soundly. The moon was setting just above the tree line and the blonde looked to the sky to find the last of the stars fading in the morning light. On the Ark, she would dream about feeling the ground beneath her feet instead of the cold metal that made her feel detached from everyone else. Now that she was on the ground, she felt the label of being an outsider by the Mountain Men weighing her down. Clarke was distracted by her own thoughts failing to notice Hania getting up and moving, knowing full well the sound she heard wouldn't be registered her human ears. Clarke immediately noticed the creature's low stance and felt her body tense. In the past, there hadn't been a threat, but now the forest was eerily quiet, all too much for Clarke's liking. With one swift movement Hania bound forward into the dark yielding a high pitched shriek from the blonde and a grunt from the person beneath the large cat. Clarke could barely make out a person below the panther, but saw the animal's jaw, open and ready to attack the human at a moment's notice.

"Clarke," the voice said quietly, "could you kindly remove your...uhm, friend from me?" Clarke froze and moved toward the voice she would recognize anywhere; the panther pushed down harder on the woman's arm below her. "Clarke," the voice came again, "I do not intend on dying today, at least not this way."

"Hania," responded the blonde, "it's okay." It was a stalemate and Hania was genuinely unsure how to handle the situation. She could sense the palpable tension in the air, but removed herself from the woman underneath her. Neither to Clarke's surprise, nor the woman's, the panther remained trained on the woman ready to strike. The blonde bore into the woman in front of her. "What are you doing here, mom?" Abby smiled - even if "mom" was said with slight distaste, she enjoyed the way her daughter still recognized her as just that.

"To be honest, I don't know. I've been here for a while. I made myself a little camp between here and Jaha; I've been trying to find the words to say, and was going to wait it out a bit longer, but I heard you and Octavia talking about leaving for Polis and I wanted to..." In truth, the doctor wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do. She feared a goodbye, but knew better than to beg her daughter to stay. Clarke thought on her mother's admission and it clicked. Hania's defensive position over the past few days with no obvious threat could now be explained by her mother's presence. Abby decided it was best to redirect the conversation,"You did a good job with the stitches, I'm surprised she didn't get infected," Abby nodded her head in the panther's direction.

"Monty. He left some moonshine in the dropship." Again, the doctor nodded.

"How are your hands?" Clarke held up her hands to show her mother. "Nyko," the brunette said simply. Clarke nodded, an involuntary reflex as she tried to contain the lump forming in her throat. She felt a head under her hand and looked down, suddenly feeling ashamed of leaving her mother. She knew Camp Jaha was in good hands, or presumed it was. Clarke mumbled a few choice words after mulling over her thoughts. "What was that?" Abby asked.

"I said, I'm sorry," Clarke replied quietly, but with a bit more conviction. Hania purred at the delicacy of her words and Abby moved to hug her daughter. Within moments, sobs wrecked Clarke and her mother simply held her. In that moment actions spoke louder than words. Moments passed and the sun began to rise, breaking open the sky, "You're still a good guy," Abby whispered. Clarke did nothing but sob harder, her hands gripping her mother's shoulder until her bones ached as much as her heavy heart.

A few feet away, Octavia began to stir as did Lincoln. The two certainly noticed a change in the atmosphere, but out of respect stayed in their somber state. Abby continued to hold her daughter until the heaving in the blonde's chest lessened and the occasional stiffs stopped all together. "Raven's been worried about you...and Bellamy?" Abby paused suddenly very aware that his sister was listening intently only a few feet away, "Bellamy is none too pleased about your absence. I don't think he realized how serious you were about leaving." Clarke stared blankly back at her mother, fully aware she needed to hear this, but not entirely sure she was ready; Abby released a sigh before continuing. "I think you'd be happy to know that Raven and Wick seem to be getting along. That girl deserves to be happy after all that she has been through. Monty has been helping out a lot and Jasper is...well, Jasper seems to be distancing himself from Monty. I think he is ashamed about what happened in the mountain. Seeing Monty hurts him too much. Speaking of hurt," a look of panic and conflict crossed the brunette's face, "Raven's leg. It's not getting better. It's worse in fact." At that, Clarke's face visibly fell and Abby returned the action with a weak smile. "It seems that tiny pieces of the bullet were left and are nearing her spine. It's been affecting her nervous system more and more and if it hits her spine…" The doctor shuddered at the thought. Octavia sat up out of concern for the brunette. "What do you mean, what happens if the pieces hit her spine?"

"Paralysis." Clarke replied automatically, to which Abby nodded her head.

"Can't we just operate again?" the warrior questioned.

"The shrapnel is so small, I missed it the first time, and we have no morphine, no zofran, nothing in the way of aiding for this surgery. It was hard enough the first time…" There was an unsettling pause weighing down on the group. Finally, Lincoln spoke.

"We do." Abby raised an eye.

"Who is we?" she knew the answer before she could stop herself from asking the question.

"Our healers. I don't know what morphine or zofran is, but for all invasive healing we use herbs - one for pain management and one to settle the stomach." Clarke shifted her weight, understanding this decision was a precipice of sorts. If her mother said yes, she would have to return with Raven to the capital which would open up many fresh wounds. By that same token, it could also get a dialogue going between the sky and ground crews a lot sooner than she had hoped. So she did that, along with Lincoln, Octavia and Hania, she hoped that her mother would make the decision to save her friend's life. She paused her thought...was Raven still her friend? She killed the man who was her only family and gave her the okay to get herself blown up...the blonde let out an audible sigh. Simultaneously, Abby said the word that set up their plan of action. "Okay."

Within 24 hours, Clarke, Octavia, Lincoln, Raven, and Abby were packing under the direction of Lincoln to travel to Polis. The doctor was not joking when she said Raven was getting worse, the girl had lost a considerable amount of weight and she seemed to constantly have a thin sheen of sweat layering her shaking body. Clarke examined the mechanic from a distance when she first came into sight, impressed she wasn't getting chewed out. "I'm hot but no need to stare, Griffin. Thought your mother taught you better than that." Clarke smiled at the girl's welcome of sorts.

"Let's get you fixed up; I'm glad you said yes."

_When Abby returned to Jaha, she was immediately flocked by people asked her questions, none of which she bothered with. Hurriedly, she rushed to Raven's bed in the clinic where the woman was sleeping with a pained expression on her face. "Raven, sweetie," she placed a gentle hand on the mechanic's shoulder, "you need to wake up." It took a few seconds, but soon the brunette groggily came to, alerting the doctor she was awake with a pained grunt. "How are you feeling, any better?" Raven looked at Abby unsure what to say. Abby herself struggled to find her own words. "Can you feel that?" she asked as she moved a pin up Raven's right foot. The response or lack there of let the doctor know the answer. "Tell me when, just like last time." The doctor moved the pin up Raven's leg and was relieved when she got a grunt from the girl just below her knee._

_"Tell me we can do something," pleaded the mechanic. Abby fully looked at Raven and took a deep breath._

_"You're not going to like it." Abby continued to explain that she found Clarke, and the healing process Lincoln detailed for invasive surgeries. The prospect of seeing her friends unnerved Raven more than she cared to admit, but Raven needed her legs. At least one of them. After internally mulling the over, Raven stared at Abby._

_"Yes, but I have some questions first." Abby let a shy smile take over her face, maybe the girl was learning that it was okay to ask for and need help._

_"Of course, what do you need to know? I'm sure Lincoln can explain these things better, he -" Raven shook her head effectively cutting the doctor off._

_"Not about the surgery, Abby. I want to know why you're doing this. Helping me, you've dedicated the last few weeks to me. You have plenty of other patients and now you're risking a run in with grounders to help me." She paused, "I'm not going to go through this because I'm some charity case to make you feel better because you feel guilty about everything that's happened between us." Abby nodded, understanding all that Raven was referencing and chose her next words carefully._

_"The Ark sucked for you. Your mother wasn't one at all and your father..." she trailed off._

_"I'm not some Clarke replacement because she went and ran away. I don't need another parent to screw me over." Raven took note of the way the doctor's features visibly fell._

_"No, Raven you don't. You're not my daughter, but I trust you. I know you have talent and the hand you were dealt on the Ark was...less than ideal, but you're in pain. I'm asking as a friend, please, let me help you. You don't have to detach yourself from everyone to deal with this and I'm not going to idly sit by and watch you turn into a shell of yourself."_

_Raven was blindsided by Abby's admission. She studied the woman, trying to detect any hint of falsehood but saw nothing but truth in her eyes. "Thank you, Abby. I'm sorry I - about what I said. Your part in sending Clarke down here..."_

_Abby shook her head, "Nothing about that wasn't true. I was angry and I shouldn't have - I'm sorry too." Raven smiled, maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all._

Abby gave Raven a gentle nudge to draw her out of her thoughts and alarming her that they were getting ready to move out. The group was informed by Hania that the path was clear for the next few miles and their long trek began. At first sight of the creature, Raven yelped and was promptly laughed at by Octavia. "What the hell is that thing and why is it looking at me like I'm some fluffy cat?" Octavia rolled her eyes and Clarke smiled, bemused by the interaction and glad to hear that Raven had not lost her sarcastic charm.

"That is Hania, Raven. Clarkey picked up her own Lewis during her midnight strolls." Raven eyed the girl, utterly perplexed, mostly confused as to how Octavia knew about Lewis and Clark. "What? I read, what else was there to do under a floor for your whole life? It wasn't all just hand games," the brunette added with a wink. Raven just stared back, gaping at the brazen warrior. Abby, who had been watching the dynamics of the three women shift slowly, walked over to Raven and took her jaw in the crook of her finger pushing up slightly.

"It's not polite to keep your mouth open, who knows what might go in it?" Again, Raven was slack jawed, did Abby just make a dirty joke?

The night before they departed, Lincoln explained the trip and estimated that the ride would take a few days having to walk plus the factor of Raven's slower pace. Abby made it very clear that Raven was not to walk more than a few miles each day so Clarke proposed the idea of using the hammock in the drop ship to carry the disabled girl; Abby smiled and quietly appreciated Clarke's quick thinking. Lincoln further explained that the terrain was fairly flat save for a few minor areas, but they were not to be problematic. The two bonafide warriors discussed a battle plan should an attack occur, but much of that conversation fell deaf to sleeping ears. When dusk rolled around, the group departed.

The first day of the trip was filled with a comfortable silence between the band of travelers. (Or, comfortable given the circumstances.) Abby amended her earlier statement saying Raven was not to crutch her way alongside the group under any circumstances. With that information, the able in the group took turns carrying the hammock. For the most part, the group trusted Hania to sense any immediate danger and after the first few hours, relaxed and began to enjoy the scenery around them rather than constantly searching for a threat.

"Oktevia, osir gaf in hod op, yu lukot gaf in brak." (Octavia, we need to stop, your friend needs sleep.) Octavia looked to Raven who was grimacing as the hammock swung her in an untimely fashion.

"Sha," she said simply. Clarke, who had been quiet the whole time kept walking, despite the group's blatant effort to settle down for the night. "Klark," Octavia called out, "Raven gaf in brak, hod op." (Klark, Raven needs to sleep, stop.) The blonde paused mid stride, translating slowly in her mind.

"I'm going to check around us," replied the blonde, not bothering to wait for an answer and too tired for Trigedasleng. Octavia felt the palpable emotional shift in the healer ever since her mother and Raven showed up. The warrior relented, letting Abby know where her daughter was headed to, rather what she was doing. Clarke felt her mother's eyes on her, but pushed through letting out a loud whistle. Hania came bounding towards Clarke and put her head under the girl's hand. Just out of earshot of everyone, the blonde sat down, stroking the furry animal in an attempt to quell her racing mind. To no avail, she let out a steady breath, placed her head against the animal's torso and let the rise and fall lull her to sleep.

When the makeshift camp was quiet and everyone was asleep, Raven willed herself to get up and hunt for Clarke. To be fair, it wasn't that far but her "good" leg hurt with every hobble. Below her head, Hania stirred at the unevenly pitched, yet rhythmic noise. Immediately she recognized it as the crippled woman and shifted her body to draw Clarke into a conscious state. Raven had just made it around the bend to see large creature stand up letting Clarke's head fall on its paw. The only thought that went through Raven's mind was that this cat was strange as fuck. Protective, but weird. Hania looked at the mechanic and the girl could have sworn she saw the panther dip its head in respect. But it was late, early rather, and who the hell knew what she was seeing. Raven moved over to Clarke and lightly tapped her back with her crutch, unable to bend down. Clarke gave a groggy groan, "Go away Lexa, it's too early." Raven froze and the panther moved to nuzzle her face into Clarke's to which the blonde hummed, "Lexa that tickles."

"Try again, princess." The blonde bolted up right at the sound of the mechanic's voice, nearly crashing her head into the understand of Hania's jaw.

"Raven..uhm hi. What - you shouldn't be walking," the healer said taking note of the crutches.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't be assuming that the Commander is waking you up." Clarke cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the directness of Raven's words. Then again, she wasn't too surprised. Hania purred beside the blonde, "See even your little friend agreed with me." The blonde gave the cat a look of, 'really, you're taking her side?' Raven just shrugged, "What was that about anyway. You didn't sleep with Lexa did you?" Clarke had a blank look on her face.

"No," she responded dryly. "I did sleep in her presence though. After we got attacked by the giant gorilla," she clarified.

"But you like her," Raven added, more of a statement than a question. Clarke pursed her lips, honestly unsure how to respond.

"You didn't come here to talk about Lexa."

"Oh but I did, Clarke. I told you to kill her if she wouldn't let Finn go and you killed Finn. You managed to strike a deal with her, get her to listen to you, get her people to listen to you, defend her against your own people and now we're going to the heart of grounder life to try to salvage what is left of my limb. I definitely came here to talk about the Commander, or Lexa, as you so conveniently call her."

The blonde steeled her jaw. "Fine, you want to talk? Let's talk, but at least sit down, there is no sense if putting any more strain on your leg then you have to." Raven complied, plopping herself down and Hania moved across behind her so the mechanic could lean back.

"Some cat you got there," she mumbled.

Clarke scoffed, "You're only saying that because she is currently taking your side." She looked at the cat, amused. "Literally." Raven shrugged as Clarke thought about what to say next. "What do you want to know, Raven. You made a bunch of statements but I don't know what to say if you don't have questions." The brunette stared intently back at her, noticing her tiredness not just in her eyes, but in her features as well.

"I'm sorry," the mechanic breathed out. Clarke responded with a look of pure shock. "I shouldn't have asked you to kill Lexa, you would have died too and that would have been...most unfortunate."

"Thanks, I think."

"What I mean to say is…ah hell. I forgive you, for the Finn thing at least. I forgave you a long time ago and it wasn't cool of me to make you feel guilty about that for so long." The young leader raised an eyebrow. "Well, punching you felt good, but after seeing Gustus tied up and everything...that would have been Finn, and you saved him from that at the cost of.."the mechanic trailed off.

"My mental stability?" Clarke offered, gaining a chuckle out of Raven.

"Your words, not mine princess." the blonde gave her a weak smile.

"I am sorry Raven, not just for taking his life, but for everything before that. He - I didn't know that he had you. I wouldn't have.." she trailed off, trying to study the mechanic's features in the poor lighting. Raven sighed.

"I know that now, you're good Clarke. I'm sorry I didn't realize that earlier." The blonde tensed at the word "good" and she could hear her mother in her head. _Maybe there are no good guys._ She let out an audible sigh to which Raven responded with a look of concern. "Two shit choices don't make you a bad guy, Clarke. I'll tell you what I told Finn, build a brace and get over it." Clarke hummed with a small smile on her face. She realized how much she had missed Raven. Despite her crass approach to life, Raven still acted as a rock for Clarke whether she knew it or not. "So," the brunette began awkwardly, "what _is _up with you and the Commander." Clarke pursed her lips. She had been doing her best to avoid this subject for quite a while, because truthfully, she didn't know. There was something there, but when she told Lexa she wasn't ready, she meant it. She was not ready, and even less so after the mountain.

"We are leaders," the blonde stated a bit too factually for Raven. "She - we -" Clarke sighed, "honestly I haven't the slightest clue."

"You like her?" Raven questioned. Clarke bit her lip, thinking seriously about the question before responding.

"I don't _not_ like her. I tried too, after she left, I tried, but I can't tell if I was hating her for making me irradiate level five or it was easier to hate her than myself." Raven looked at the younger girl, aware of how torn she was.

"It's okay...to like her I mean."

"I don't think I am supposed to, with all that happened, with all that is going on?"

"Look Clarke, we don't have the luxury of sitting on our asses all day. Hell, within the first few hours of being on the ground, Bellamy said that Jasper took a spear to the chest and it only went downhill from there. I blew up a freaking bridge. We aren't going to find much of anything with war and fighting, but there's a whole lot to be found in each other. Don't we deserve more than just fighting to survive?" The blonde stared blanky back at Raven, somewhat shocked by her bold statements, but mostly impressed.

"It's funny, I told Lexa the same thing before we kissed," Clarke revealed as plainly as possible. Raven sat up, causing the panther to turn in her, as if she too was questioning the healer.

"I'm sorry, you what? Raccoon eyes kissed you?"

"Raccoon eyes?" Clarke asked amused.

"So not the point here, blondey. The Commander of thousands, the one whose antiquated lifestyle goes back to Hammurabi, the leader of all grounders kissed you?" Clarke only shrugged and nodded. "Jeez, I think I need to sit down for this."

"Raven," the blonde said pointedly, "you _are _sitting down.

"Again, not the point Clarke." As Raven absorbed the information, Clarke got up and moved towards the panther, stroking her head pensively. From what the brunette could tell, the blonde had been stuck on this kiss more than she cared to admit. "So what, you two are a thing?"

"Not a thing, Raven. We aren't together or anything, but.." she trailed off.

"You were hoping to be something?"

"I'm not ready," Clarke responded, almost robotically.

"Doesn't answer my questions, Einstein." The blonde huffed, mildly annoyed with Raven's persistence. "Hey, you're the one that brought it up," to which Clarke pursed her lips.

"I think -. I think I want to be ready, but that may be a while." Even in the dim light, Raven could see Clarke's features relax at her admission and decided to let the conversation die. After a few minutes of silence, save for the hums coming from Hania, Clarke mumbled something about going to bed. The mechanic stood with a fierce determination, hobbling her way back over to camp. It wasn't exactly the conversation she imagined having with the blonde, but they could both admit it felt good to be on cordial terms again. Laying down, Raven stared at the trees above her, suddenly very curious how many grounders may be lurking around their camp. Instead of feeling threatened, though, she felt oddly calm and protected and let that thought lull her to sleep; they had another day of travel after all.

*brak - sleep


End file.
